


A Ladder Of Your Own

by Pengibee



Series: Something New to Grow [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora Has Issues (She-Ra), Awkward Conversations, Boundaries, Bow Is a Good Friend (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra) Swears, Catra Has Issues (She-Ra), F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Perfuma Isn't Everyone's Therapist, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scorpia (She-Ra) is a Good Friend, Self-Esteem Issues, The Girls Are WORKING ON GETTING A THERAPIST, Therapy, post-s5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pengibee/pseuds/Pengibee
Summary: Catra has a lot to work on. And a lot of relationships to repair. Both her and Adora find it difficult to deal with the consequences of their abuse.In which Perfuma Sets Boundaries and Catra learns about giving and taking.There will be lots of emotional conversations, some Best Friends Squad time, and catradora +scorfuma fluff.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Series: Something New to Grow [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837462
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. The Flower Princess

Catra had not been planning a conversation. As she saw Perfuma walk out, sit down, and close her eyes from across the grounds, she fought an inner battle between her conscience and the urge to stay lying down in the fine grass, sleepily enjoying the warm sunlight.

Yet, naps could wait. She had all day, after all. Adora had run off to help Bow on some “mission” (a shopping trip by the sound of it), and there wasn’t anything pressing that needed attending to.

Catra shook off some of her sluggishness and made her way to where the flower princess was gingerly posing cross-legged, already lost in meditation.

“Um, hi?”

“Hello, Catra. What brings you here?”

“Look, Perfuma, I…”

Why were these next few words so difficult? It felt just about as natural as grinding her claws down a chalkboard, painstakingly taking in every single nuance of the grating noise. Her voice sounded equally scratchy.

“ _Thank You._ The time you spent talking to me… the advice you gave me. It, uh. Means a lot. It… helped. I get I have a lot to work on. Maybe we could start doing that meditation thing together? I don’t… I’m sorry if you don’t want to. I’m probably terrible at it. I don’t want to be annoying, and I know it’s still a big deal that we, um. Fought. In the past. That I had such _negative vibes_.”

Perfuma’s soft smile glowed faintly, her eyes still closed. She drew in a deep breath, slowly, softly, beckoning the air towards her with such stillness that her breathing seemed almost to have stopped entirely. When she was meditating, every word she spoke seemed to have been a creation of its own, carefully crafted and set off from a distant place somewhere too deep inside her mind for anyone else to grasp.

“I’m delighted that I was able to help, Catra. You’re welcome. Don’t forget to thank yourself too, though.”

“Uh… what’s that supposed to mean? Why would I say thank you to… _myself_? Is this another one of those thought exercises?” For Catra, the ascended-to-a-plane-beyond-mortal-understanding Perfuma was cryptic at the _best_ of times.

A hint of a chuckle shook her steady pose.

“Catra, expressing thanks can be so difficult. Especially when it makes us feel so vulnerable… or that we don’t deserve what others have chosen to give us. You deserve to thank yourself for being so strong today. I feel grateful to have been able to hear you say something so meaningful.”

Catra squirmed, shifting her weight from left to right as she tried her hardest to stay put and listen while the flower princess (who she had only properly met a few weeks prior) pressed her heart in the most sensitive, most hidden places with a scarce few well-chosen words.

“I would love to take the time to meditate with you, Catra.”

Perfuma took in a deep breath as Catra’s eyes widened. _That easy?_

The flower princess’ brows furrowed a bit, breaking her meditative stance. She opened her eyes and pointed a blank stare past Catra, towards the treeline.

“I would love to, but I want you to listen to my feelings first. Could you please sit down with me and listen for a while?”

“Uh… okay?”

Listening was still something she had been working on. It was a struggle to take someone else’s words in and accept them as they were—without giving into the fear that they were meant to hurt, specifically chosen to carve away any shred of confidence, of agency—of anything she happened to _like_ about herself. Shadow Weaver had made sure to scorch those parts of Catra’s mind (and when that failed, her body) to the best of her ability. Nevertheless, months ago on Horde Prime’s ship, listening to Glimmer—who believed there was _some_ good to be found in her still—is what had given her the chance to come this far in the first place. Somehow, Adora and her friends meant and _believed_ what they said. Why they didn’t see Catra as the affliction she believed herself to be remained a mystery. But, right now, she knew that leaving an opening for these people had turned out alright thus far.

Catra gingerly sat down, still squirming with her heart beating fast.

* * *

Being in Catra’s presence hadn’t been easy; or at least, as easy as Perfuma had hoped. It wasn’t that she _disliked_ her—Catra could be good company when was in a quiet mood and let herself open up—but the past few weeks had been a challenge. She had caught glimpses of someone caring, devoted, softly playful—but they had so far been drowned out by the chaos of witnessing the same person fail to cope with pain, abuse, and not knowing the first thing about how to have a healthy connection to other people in the first place. No, Catra was a good person—but she needed to work. And heal.

And that’s exactly what made talking so difficult.

How do you help another heal when they give rise to so many powerful, overlapping thoughts and feelings that it becomes impossible to distance yourself from them? When everything is too messy, or too close to home, and when there’s so much you need to say back?

You can’t. Not in the way Perfuma was used to doing. She knew the routine: another Plumerian would find themselves at the bottom of a pit with a wall they didn’t know how to scale, or bereft of the strength they needed—too hurt, too confused, trapped there by demons that resisted being understood. And the flower princess would be there, looking on from the outside, expertly guiding them out, showing them how to build a ladder of their own—teaching them how to come to terms with what had made them fall in the first place.

Truthfully, that had been most of her work back home; at least before the war. A war that turned an enemy into—a friend?

Not quite. Despite how Adora had made clear she felt about Catra, Perfuma had seen too many of those she counselled feel the same—and let themselves be hurt or held back by who they had been trained to make excuses for. It took seeing sacrifice and commitment—to healing, to Adora—for her to let go and trust that Catra was truly doing her best, and that she held as much sweetness and care in her heart as Adora knew had been there all along. Still, Catra had so much work to do. Shadow Weaver’s abuse had shaped both of them in ways that would take years to undo.

And _both_ of them needed someone to teach them how to scale that wall. Someone who could look over the pit from above, from afar.

Not someone who had been involved in their lives—as an enemy, an ally, a colleague (a friend)? At the very least, someone who could be in Catra’s presence without feeling so much at once. And this wasn’t Plumeria. This wasn’t her job. This was something more personal, something close to home, and that meant her feelings about it were as important as anyone else’s.

Catra needed to understand that.

* * *

Perfuma drew in a deep breath before speaking, still carefully choosing her words.

“Catra, I’m so happy for you. You’ve been so positive since we came back to Brightmoon, and I’m so proud of you for opening up and asking me for advice. And talking to Scorpia, too!”

“You know about that?!”

Perfuma shone a soft smile. “We’ve been talking to each other pretty often… it turns out we have so much in common!”

Of _course_ she knew. She and Scorpia were practically inseparable by now.

“I remember telling her that I was happy… happy you two had each other. I, uh… I think she likes you. A lot, actually.”

Perfuma let slip a light, carefree giggle as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. “I like her too! We _might_ have nervously blurted it out to each other over dinner yesterday. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk to you about how we relate to each other. How—friendship—works. For me.”

“Did I… fuck something up again? I’ve done that a lot. It’s—”

“Catra! Please. Stop. It’s not _about_ what you did. Not right now. It’s about what _I_ need to do. And what _I_ can give.”

Perfuma rarely showed anger—but enough frustration soaked through to get the message across. Catra slunk back.

“I don’t know you very well. Before a few weeks ago, the only thing we did together was _fight_ opposite one another. All I knew was that you and Adora had hurt each other. Deeply. And that Adora _still_ cared about you despite everything you kept doing to _all of us._ And…”

Perfuma’s gaze dropped down as she paused, settling on a sigh that went on just a bit too long.

“And I didn’t understand why she believed in you for a very long time. I told you to keep your heart open because I only just started giving you a chance myself.”

“I… I get why,” Catra croaked.

“But you proved to everyone that it was a chance worth giving. And now, we wouldn’t be here without you and Adora being together again.”

Another sigh. Perfuma turned her head towards Catra, who had been curling up tightly with her eyes locked on the distant treeline.

“That makes things complicated, Catra. We’re so close because of what you did for all of us, but we barely know the first thing about each other. I want to change that, if it’s something you want back. Except… I don’t think I can give you the kind of advice you’ve been asking for anymore. I’m too close to all the people around us, and too close to what happened to give you what you need to get better. Friendship is give and take. Sometimes, I get mad too. I get mad, and I cry, and I have feelings that I need my friends to listen to and let me have back.”

Catra couldn’t help but wince a bit. Of _course_. She _had_ been selfish, hadn’t she? She had never _stopped_. It was only a matter of time before everyone realized. She let out a whimper before burying her head beneath her arms, not knowing what she could say in reply.

“Catra, things are going to be okay. I know some people in Brightmoon who weren’t involved in the war who know how to help, and they would do a better job than I ever could. I would be so happy to introduce you! And it wouldn’t cost you anything except some time. Adora could come too.”

Catra couldn’t understand. What would she get out of talking to someone who didn’t _know_ her? They would probably take one look at her and tear her apart for having been—well, _out to destroy the entire universe instead of admitting her feelings_ , among other downright awful things. Perfuma most likely simply didn’t want to have to deal with her anymore. She had always been too much to deal with. And right now, that fact was something she couldn’t bear.

“I’ll think about it… I’m sorry,” she blurted out, springing to her feet and running off towards the woods—where she could afford to be alone with herself for a few hours.

Perfuma sighed again. Setting boundaries rarely went smoothly for her. Yet, she trusted Catra to come around—even if it took her some time to get there. Not to mention Adora being there for her. After all, she saw the look on the magicat’s face every time she caught her staring at Adora. Even Catra wouldn’t dare run away from that kind of love; not anymore.

Things would be okay. There was time enough for everyone to feel what they must now. Perfuma smiled, closing her eyes again and slipping back into inner peace.


	2. Past Wounds

Catra had a tendency to, well… run. Run from difficult conversations, from feelings she couldn’t bear to face, and from people who she expected to stab at her mind and heart when her guard was down.

Facing that alone was how she coped. Finding a place where no one could see her struggle, fight, break, cry, scream, claw at her own body in vain efforts to get at the thoughts that pained her and then gingerly put her face back together before heading back out again.

To say that habit hadn’t helped fix what was broken was an understatement. Yet, even now, the impulse to head off somewhere to suffer alone—sparing those around her even more unpleasantness—was difficult to ignore. Things were easier as of late, though. The whirlpools were shallower, her breathing was easier, and her skin had stayed intact long enough to start forgetting the marks she had laid down. And when she did give in to the inexplicable draw of letting pain and confusion course freely through her mind in solitude, she knew that someone (Adora) would probably end up looking for her—wanting to know that she was still trying to keep herself steady, ready to offer some measure of safety if she wasn’t.

Of course, that was a service Scorpia had tried to offer—on more than one occasion—back in the Horde. But Catra had slapped that offer away more times than she could count, wallowing in too thick a pool of anger, resentment, and _hurt_ to realize what it represented.

And as she sped into the Whispering Woods, picking a satisfyingly high tree to scale and deftly pouncing upward from branch to branch until she lost sight of the ground, rejection plagued her mind.

_Every time Scorpia tried to help me, I would be an ass to her. And now, all I want is help. And I managed to piss off Perfuma by begging for it until she couldn’t take it anymore._

_Why am I like this?_

Catra let out a sigh and closed her eyes as she settled down in what seemed to be a sufficiently concealed spot. The question kept ringing in her brain.

 _WHY do I have to be like this? Can’t I just… be happy with what I’ve got like everyone else here is? Why do I have to ruin it every single fucking time? Why can’t I stop hurting everyone? I can’t even stop hurting myself. It’s pathetic._ I’m _pathetic._

She brought her knees up to her shoulders, wrapping her arms and tail around herself as tightly as she could muster.

A handful of tears squeezed their way out, running gently down her face and dripping down towards the leaves below. More familiar, prickly thoughts cycled from Catra’s head to her heart, stopping there to tighten their grip around it and press out a faint cry or two before making their way back to her mind.

She stayed there for a while, cradling herself, swaying ever so slightly in time with the branches at the whim of the winds.

“Catra?”

A familiar voice, clear as a bell, pierced through the canopy from afar.

“Catra, are you there? Perfuma said you’d be somewhere over here …”

Adora. Adora who was so ready to give to her, who had told her over and over and _over_ again during their scant few moments alone since they had come home: _I love you. More than anyone else. I would give the world to you. Not because I feel like I should… I know that’s a problem I have. No. I’d do it because you are_ worth _the world to me. As long as we love each other, and as long as you try your best, I’m going to be right behind you. Cheering you on. Catching you when you fall. Because that’s what people who love each other do. Because I know… I know you would do the same for me without a second thought. And I wish it had always been like this, but now we have a lifetime to fix what happened to us. And I want you to remember that every time you feel like you’re no good. Because this idiot loves you._

Catra still struggled to remember. Though their love was old, known, mapped out, their _relationship_ was still new and uncharted. Months spent reconciled hadn’t wiped away years of bitter hostility, despite it being borne out of twisted, manipulative inflictions that neither of them were responsible for (that was something they had settled early on). Adora herself, on the other hand, was hard to ignore—especially when she was walking around yelling out for her girlfriend, ruining her peace and quiet in the most endearing way possible.

“C’mon, I can tell something happened! I’m worrying! W O R R Y I N G!”

Her concerned-turned-playful tone pulled a hoarse chuckle out from Catra’s hideout.

“I’m over here, idiot. Just, you know. Having a good old Catra cry.”

“How DARE you. There is NOTHING ‘good’ about Catra cries. I’m coming over so you can have a good old Adora appreciation session.”

 _Still as annoyingly cute on the inside as ever,_ Catra thought.

“Yeah, well. Good luck making it all the way up here.”

A bright light and a few magic words later, an excessively tall and radiant Adora pulled herself up into view.

Even at her most despondent, Catra couldn’t help but notice She-Ra’s power, backed up by an impressive, downright _artistic_ musculature.

“If my girlfriend turns into a sexy magical being made of pure buff when she wants to comfort me, I guess maybe I did _one_ thing right in my life.”

“I’m sure you meant to say that out loud.”

“Yeah, well, there are a lot of things I wish I’d said out loud instead of keeping them in, love.”

Adora let herself shift back to normal, choosing a thick branch to let her legs dangle over.

“Well, why don’t we start with whatever’s on your mind right now?”

* * *

Catra had barely made it to Perfuma’s speech, when a far-off rumble announced that the Woods (and, more importantly, _Catra_ ) would be soon be drenched.

“Well, basically, she said that she couldn’t—hey, actually, maybe we should head back in before we get soaked. And then fried. I mean, your hair poof is basically a lighting rod.”

“If lighting is as attracted to me as you are, sure, let’s go with that.”

“I’m going to claw your eyes out, I swear.

…Carry me down?”

If Catra knew how happy it made Adora when she let She-Ra carry her, she wouldn’t ask _nearly_ as often. Still, right now, she found herself in need of physical comfort.

After all, she hadn’t been out in a storm in months; not since…

“One muscular embrace coming up, you helpless baby.”

She found herself swept up in She-Ra’s arms, her head being held gently in the crook of the larger woman’s neck as they artfully skipped down to the ground and sped back towards the castle, keeping ahead of the coming storm.

Something about the air felt wrong. Too cold. Too empty. Too sterile.

Even as She-Ra, Adora could be clumsy as hell. This time, she was too focused on the sound of the rain beginning to hit the treeline behind them to avoid catching her feet on massive roots she should have seen coming. To stay on her feet, she had to let go of Catra for a moment, who hung in the air for a moment before crashing back down across her shoulder.

_I can’t breathe. I can barely see. I’ve been here before._

The sky darkened around them as they cleared the edge of the Woods—just in time for a gust of wind to push a wet sheet of droplets onto the pair, who found themselves drenched from head to toe in an instant ( _since when has the weather in Brightmoon been_ this _awful?_ Adora wondered).

The icy water froze Catra in place.

As it had done while an electric, buzzing chunk of copper and platinum stabbed into her neck.

Ripping her consciousness away.

_I’m losing my mind again._

_I’m being taken._

_I can’t leave._

_Adora._

_Help._

The last thought clawed its way across the brief stretch from Catra’s mouth to Adora’s ear on the heels of thunder roaring around the pair.

“Catra? Are you okay? _Catra?_ ”

As Adora closed the distance to the gate, the slippery wet grass reluctantly ceding way to cobblestone, she recognized what was happening.

She had witnessed Catra having flashbacks before—on Darla, months ago. And she noticed the way her partner’s hands, almost imperceptibly shaky, would drift to the scar on her neck whenever tensions were high. Whenever she was in pain. Whenever she was on the cusp of another swell of panic massive enough to subjugate her mind for minutes, hours.

Sometimes longer.

When the pair had first made it back to Brightmoon, Catra had collapsed beside the bed the moment Adora’s door had closed for the first time. Her breath hitching, eyes wandering, arms shakily gripping her knees; weeks and months of anxiety came spilling out, unable to be kept at bay any longer. It took an entire day for Catra to feel safe enough to leave their room, with Adora bringing tray after tray of food and wrapping her up in a thick, tight blanket of unyielding, grounding embraces punctuated by the safest words of reassurance Adora could conjure.

It was the least she could do for the woman she loved. And she readied herself to do it again as she barrelled through the large wooden gate, taking a storm-entranced Bow and Glimmer by surprise.

“Adora, what the hell?”

Glimmer’s shock quickly turned to chills, as Adora crouched down and transformed back while sliding a trembling, catatonic Catra into her lap.

“Glimmer, get us to our room. Now.”

“Sure—sec.”

Glimmer set her hands on Adora’s shoulders before blinking the sitting pair to their room, still messy from a more careless morning spent lazily rifling through clothes and keepsakes.

“What’s happening to her?”

“She’s having a panic attack—can you get us some towels and hot chocolate? And give us some space afterwards.”

At those words, Catra’s eyes shot into focus.

“ _NO! Don’t go. Please. Stay. Don’t leave. I need to know you’re here. Not on the ship. Not with… him.”_

“Uh…”

“You heard her, Glimm. There are towels in the bathroom, let’s dry off and get some blankets. Would you feel safer if we were all touching, dear?”

Catra managed a weak nod as she buried a shaky head into Adora’s chest, a free hand tearing through layers of fabric and gripping her girlfriend’s leg as though sinking her claws into it were the only way to guarantee she wasn’t dreaming. Her breathing ratcheted along, eyes riveted shut as she rocked the pair back and forth.

“This okay? I don’t know what to do.”

Glimmer stood at attention, holding a tall and fluffy stack of white linen.

“Perfect. Just be here and sit with us, that’s all we need. Hey, Catra.” Adora gently stroked her partner’s side. “I’m going to dry you off with a towel, okay? It’s going to ruffle your hair a bit but you’re going to be safe, I promise.”

A soft whimper of approval rang out in response as they gently dried off, Adora taking care not to break the touch Catra desperately needed to stay tethered to her while avoiding a specific place on the back of her neck where a scar still showed. Glimmer pulled a fluffy blanket off the bed, wrapping it gently around her friends.

The three of them sat together waiting out the storms raging both outside and in; Catra sunk deeper into Adora’s embrace with Glimmer resting a steady hand on her knee, staying there for what felt like an eternity.

* * *

_I’m sure they’re just… all okay, and I shouldn’t worry, or bother them, and if they needed me they would ask._

_Right?_

Bow paced back and forth, unsure of what exactly had transpired in the last thirty seconds or so. Looking up from his tracker pad, he had seen a determined She-Ra burst through the front door (quite literally—he wondered if Entrapta could make them open on their own so he wouldn’t have to fix it all over again next time), set a soaked-through, sickly-seeming Catra down, and yell at Glimmer to teleport them out.

Not an unusual occurrence for the Best Friends Squad, but worrisome nonetheless. Still, he trusted Glimmer to reach out if she needed him present—unwanted help tended to frustrate her more than anything else. He turned his eyes back to the pad, continuing to sift through meteorological data. At least, until worry begun to worm its way back into his head.

_Look, they’re probably fine. Besides, nothing weird or dangerous is going on around here, for once. I’m sure it was something tiny. Maybe she fell out of a tree._

_Wait, what if she fell out of a tree because the woods are turning evil?_

_No, that doesn’t make sense._

_Or does it?_

Bow’s brows were as furrowed as they could get, and his worry showed no signs of fading. Leaving the weather patterns mapped out on his tracker pad behind, he began loping towards Adora and Glimmer’s wing of the castle.

_What if Catra’s secretly a princess, and all the magic we unleashed overwhelmed her and made her pass out? What would her powers even be? How does magic even work?! I’m the only one who has no idea how it works around here. Being the only one who isn’t a princess again would feel lonely. I was hoping Catra was more of a tech person. I hope it’s not that._

_No, totally not that. We would have known by now. Adora would have let it slip._

_Well, I’m out of ideas._

Just as Bow drifted back to the realm of the factual and plausible, he found himself in front of Adora and Catra’s door.

_I can’t hear anyone yelling. That’s a good sign._

He gave the door a cautious knock. Soft, muffled acknowledgements and careful footsteps made themselves known from beyond. An unusually quiet Glimmer answered.

“Hey, Bow, sorry I left you hanging. We’re pampering Catra; she’s been having a not-so-great time. We have snacks if you wanna join…”

Bow’s face washed over with utter devastation—a friend having a not-so-great time was a call to action.

“I am _here_ for this.”

The atmosphere in the couple’s room was hushed, plush, laden with the sweet smells of cinnamon rolls and comfort being doled out with abandon. Adora was stationed on the bed in an overengineered pillow-blanket fort, a peaceful Catra’s head resting in her lap. Various trays of food and cups of tea were strewn about, with Glimmer doing her best to make sure her friends had ample supply of every pasty imaginable kept available at their fingertips.

The magicat let out a creaky but pleasant greeting.

“Hey, Bow. Come to join the pity party?”

“Catra, as a valued member of the Best Friends Squad, you are entitled to party copiously and as hard as necessary. What happened, anyway?”

The magicat gave a weary sigh.

“You know, the usual fucked up trauma stuff. A little flashback, a little panic attack, a little losing control of my mind. I’m too worn out to keep complaining, so please enjoy the aftershow.”

Adora brought her partner closer to her, bringing her head down to plant the softest of kisses on Catra’s temple.

“Sweetie, we’re all here for you. No matter how much you complain. Or pretend you hate it.”

“Mmmpf.” A limp groan of protest was all Catra could manage, as she had lazily shoved a cupcake into her mouth while Adora was speaking. This one tasted… _sparkly? Glimmer must love these._

Bow piped up. “This… This situation calls for _emergency measures_. I am not leaving this room until _everyone_ feels better and I am ready to do _whatever it takes_!”

Glimmer chuckled. “Oh my god—does this mean it’s BFS sleepover time? I’m cancelling my appointments. Brightmoon can deal with the Queen taking a sick day.”

“Catra… can we?” Adora worried about her ( _their_ ) friends being overwhelming, especially in this state.

“It’s not like I care, do whatever you want. Do I still get attention?” Behind her feigned indifference, Catra felt… happy to have friends around her as willing to catch her when she fell as Adora was. Just this once.

“You _always_ get attention, silly. You want our attention so bad it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re just jealous I’m stealing all the snacks.”

Glimmer hid a squeal of delight… poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: sleepover, opening up, advice.


	3. A Tired Song

Adora remembered her first Best Friends Squad Sleepover, and fondly at that. Glimmer and Bow (barely friends at _all_ back then) had showed up with bedrolls, beaming and eager to help the newest member of the Rebellion get some sleep.

They were so young. So… _unscathed_. Fresh, green faces, free of the scars and craters that criss-crossed their skin and dotted their minds now.

Although—that wasn’t true for her, was it?

Her psyche had been so deeply scored in the Fright Zone, contorted upon itself into a labyrinth that ached to navigate; so much so that Adora flat-out refused to enter it for fear of getting hopelessly untethered from the very _real_ and _pressing_ problems that existed outside of the maze, in front of her eyes. Problems that She-Ra allowed her to solve. Neat, _clean_ problems whose solutions she could _prove_ were meaningful to those around her.

Without them, the minotaur beckoned.

That fight was the only one she had ever fled.

She had seen Catra face hers and lose, over and over again—though she had not understood why at first. Eventually, though, Catra had _won_. She had faced down the beast in her mind and slain it, though its tangled, scoured home still stood; dismantling it piece by twisted piece would still take a lifetime. And she had done it for Adora, not even giving a second thought to her own fate at first.

Meanwhile, Adora’s beast was merely wounded.

She preferred to look away; after all, its was weak, lumbering, spitting blood. Even in health it had not been as threatening as Catra’s; now more than ever, the impulse to forget the labyrinth altogether and content herself with being oblivious to what lay beyond proved alluring.

It seemed only Catra understood why she felt this way. Catra, who had been moulded alongside her and brought up only to buttress Adora’s usefulness to the powers that be. Catra, whose love, in continuing defiance to Shadow Weaver’s legacy, kept reminding Adora that there was value in turning inward and rising to the challenge—not for anyone else’s sake but her own.

Still, every so often she would gaze backward from the twisted path, eyeing a more familiar place where her existence only justified itself through relentless sacrifice to someone else’s whim.

At the moment, however, everyone’s whims seemed in tune with her own.

Catra, contently purring with her head in Adora’s lap, eyeing yet another sweet pastry.

Bow, overengineering their blanket fort into a miniature castle of plush, safe warmth.

Glimmer, excitedly running down options of stories to tell.

And Adora there to take her friends’ smiles in, happy that all of them could feel safe again.

It was a feeling neither of them had known for years; now, it rang a more somber, tired tone. Yet, Adora didn’t find herself missing the starry innocence of her first days in Brightmoon. If anything, she resented that her younger self had been so _unaware_. She regretted years of love lost to… _I think Perfuma called it “unhealthy coping…” that sounds kinda silly compared to how much we were trying to hurt each other—_

“This is Etheria, calling Adora. Requesting your presence at Brightmoon castle at once, by order of _Queen Glimmer herself_.”

Adora’s inner haze cleared enough to register the gentle prod of Glimmer’s staff at her temple.

“Hmm? What? Did I miss anything?”

“You’re about to miss me going down to the kitchen and stealing a fancy bottle or two of whatever you want to drink right now.”

“Oh… wait, when did we last have a drink together?”

Glimmer and Catra shared an uneasy glance. Neither of them intended to revisit _that_ memory anytime soon. Thankfully, Bow had an answer ready.

“It must have been before Adora destroyed the sword. That feels like _ages_ ago. I miss it.” 

At that, Adora let out a dark sigh. “The amount of times I could have used a stiff drink while dealing with that crap…”

A few moments too many of silence clicked off a switch somewhere in Glimmer’s heart.

“Look. Guys. All of us around here have been working our asses off ever since we got back, day in, day out. Even you, Catra. And yes, for the record, apologizing to people for the shit you made them deal with is _work.”_

She had levelled a finger at Catra, who sent back a blank, bewildered stare.

“And you know what else is work? Pretending that everything is okay when it’s _not_. And I am not allowing a _single_ one of you to work while I’m here, because I’m frankly just fucking exhausted. So raise your hand if you feel like complete shit, have way too much to say and need a drink right about now.”

Four lazy hands worked their way up. Catra let out a pained groan.

“Idiot squad having a date night, go team.”

* * *

“Sparkles, where did you get this? I feel like I just drank an entire spicy berry bush.”

Catra peered up at the tall flute of bubbly pink liquid she was holding against the light. The four of them had opted to lounge across a sea of blankets and cushions, preferring not to waste any more energy on keeping themselves up. Adora sat limply against the wall, letting her partner slump back comfortably across her chest.

“There’s a winery a few towns over that gets it just right. I _might_ have personally intervened to get them some help to get back up and running.”

Catra chuckled. “Royal privileges, I’m guessing?”

Glimmer shot back a smirk. “Something like that. Being the Queen _sucks_ , but at least I get to sneak in a pet project or two now and then.”

Catra raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d love being in charge?”

“Yeah, well…” Glimmer finished off the rest of her drink, before reaching to pour another. “I don’t. Except in the bedroom, I guess. Can’t get enough of _that_.”

Adora let out a laugh that quickly morphed into a smug snort. “Don’t we all.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you,” Catra squeaked out from behind two bright red streaks lining her cheeks. Meanwhile, Bow had leaned forward, hiding away face-down in a stack of pillows.

“Because you love me, and always have? Or is it because of my—” Adora cleared her throat and lowered her voice in poor, mocking imitation of Catra’s voice: “— _breathtaking physique?”_

“I did NOT say that!!”

“You’re right, I think it sounded more like: _oh my god, Adora, how are you this hot?!”_

Catra unceremoniously picked up a pillow, deciding to swat at Adora’s face in an attempt to get her to “—shut UP!” After a moment, the two women caught each other’s playful eyes, collapsing into a fit of loving giggles.

“You two are gross. Get a room.”

“I… I think they have one, and this is it.” Bow had emerged from his soft hideout, looking barely any less flushed.

* * *

“…and if Scorpia hadn’t been able to break out of it for those couple of seconds, I don’t… I don’t think we’d be here right now. At least… not as _us_ , right? It keeps me up. Wondering what could have happened. Would they still be evil and empty inside? I don’t know, in… they still _are_ in some of my dreams. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand almost having been brainwashed, and maybe _dying_ at the same time as the entire universe just exploding. What would that even feel like? I bet it would hurt. Worse than anything else.”

Bow’s words, softened by the gentle warmth of berry wine working its way through his veins, kept pouring out. Neither of his friends dared interrupt; it was rare enough to hear him spill his heart out like this in the first place. The importance of letting him finish was lost on no one.

Eventually, a lull in the downpour. A low, sandy voice began filling the space.

“Let me tell you. It sucked. Ask Adora, or… whatever. Just take my word for it. Having that chip in my neck ruined me. I’m so glad he’s dead. Gone. But hey, he’s the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t he? I get nightmares too. I get these stupid _flashbacks_ where I can’t breathe and I just freeze up and all I can think of is that _fucking_ pool. Shadow Weaver messed us up enough—why did _this_ have to happen on top of everything else? I’m so tired of shit hurting like this.”

Adora gave Catra a comforting squeeze, bringing her closer and softly nuzzling the top of her head through her slowly thickening hair. Silently listening, wanting to leave space for the stories she felt everyone else had better reason to tell, she realized Catra had been hiding this struggle from everyone except her. _Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when Perfuma couldn’t help._

Glimmer’s faced bunched up in concern. “Wait… wait a minute. Catra, is that… is that what happened earlier today?”

Embarrassment, a sigh, then a nod as she brought her knees closer to her chest and made a disinhibited decision to keep going.

“Yeah… it was the thunder. And the rain. And Adora as She-Ra carrying me like I was—was dying again. Why do you think I stay inside so much when the weather acts up these days? And especially with what happened with Perfuma earlier, it’s not like things were peachy to begin with…”

Glimmer painfully lifted herself to her feet, before taking a few shaky steps and plopping down next to Adora and Catra.

“Hey. I’m sorry I keep giving you a hard time. That sounds awful. For what it’s worth, I wish I could make it feel safer around here somehow. I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff, but… still. You mean something to me. I don’t like seeing you hurt. It sucks.”

Catra turned her head to look at Glimmer, a hint of surprise shining through her otherwise spent gaze.

“I… really? Even after, like… whatever the fuck I did to your mom?”

Glimmer gave a tired groan and let herself slump to the floor, eyes aimlessly scanning the high ceiling for some sign of how to handle… any of this. _I’m too drunk to deal with this right now_ , she thought.

“Long story short, yeah. Sure. It’s… whatever. Complicated. Talk to me about it when I’m not chugging pink warm happy juice. We’re probably due to hash that shit out anyway, it’s been like… months? How long has it been? Whatever. I keep ignoring it. So do you. I can tell. I can also tell I’ve been talking for way too long about it, so tell me about what happened with Perfuma. Give me the juicy drama.”

“I… uh, okay. I guess.”

Catra sensed Adora tense up against her back before she actually spoke. “Catra, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t be a dumbass, love. I care about all of you. I don’t talk to our friends nearly enough about any of this. I just keep dumping it on you instead, day in day out. And everyone’s drunk enough to actually listen now, so. Take a break from worrying about your girlfriend for once.”

There was something indescribable about Catra’s snarky way of dealing with the rest of the world that drew Adora in. Perhaps it was knowing how every cynical jab carried with it a deeply loving, caring message that only a select few could read. Nevertheless, Adora’s concern faded into fondness. Clearly, Catra needed this. And Adora, warm from wine and her back pressed against her chest, smiled softly, letting her head rest gently on top of Catra’s again.

Bow’s twinkly gaze was fixed on the magicat, accompanied by a goofy, joyful smile that belied his admiration of Catra’s progress in opening up.

Catra caught his eyes for a moment and shook her head in mock disappointment.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it. We talked about stuff today, I uh. Said I appreciated the help she gave me. And asked her if I could meditate with her. She said yes, but… that she couldn’t help me or give me advice like she did before, when we were fighting Horde Prime and right after we got back. That she wanted to be a friend to me, but that I needed to listen more—something about give and take. Whatever, I’m bad at this. She said she could get me in touch with people who could help me better, who didn’t already know me from the war.”

“Wait… what’s wrong with that?” Glimmer gave a quizzical look.

“I don’t _know_ ; nothing, probably. I just—I just messed it up. I just left. Because it felt like all I did was annoy her and take up her time and be desperate for attention, I guess. It’s not like the whole ‘sometimes I hate myself’ thing is a secret in the first place. And I tend to royally fuck up being a friend.”

“…Sweetie, c’mon.” Adora’s soft voice reached out in an attempt to ground her, to remind her she wasn’t alone.

“I know, I know. I just. Don’t know what to do. I’m old enough that I shouldn’t just be a scared, annoying little kid anymore.”

Glimmer considered her options for a moment. _Yep, too drunk for this_. What came out was much less eloquent than she had hoped for.

“Listen, Cat, you’re not… a ‘scared kid’ or whatever, you’re just… fucked up. It’s not your fault. The war messed our heads up something fierce. Remember when I tried to blow up the _entire planet_ because I was angry? Shadow Weaver convinced me to do that. I’m glad she’s gone. ANYWAY. What was I even saying. Look. Catra. It’s okay to need help. _I_ need help! I’ve _been_ getting help from one of Perfuma’s… advisor, therapist, _whatever_ people. No one knows about it because… I don’t know, they probably wouldn’t care anyway as long as they get whatever they need from Brightmoon, but.”

Glimmer paused to catch her breath. Adora kept listening intently and making a mental note: _I need to get these two to drink and talk about their feelings more often_.

“Anyway. So, yeah, I know what it’s like. And I know what Perfuma feels like, too. You wanna know what _sucks_ about being Queen?”

Catra had been trying her hardest to focus and take in what was being said, eyes wide and locked on Glimmer’s face. She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. It _sucks_ because _everyone_ has problems. Everyone walks in, sees you, and they just see… someone they can demand help from. And that’s fine, it’s my job, it’s what I do, but I don’t feel like a real person at the end of the day. Just an advice and planning and work dispenser that _everyone’s_ just lining up to visit. I _hate_ that. It’s why I need friends. Why I need Bow. Why I need _you_ guys around me as equals and not customers, or whatever. Perfuma’s basically her realm’s therapist; she probably just wants people who are there to listen to _her_ for once—people she doesn’t need to take care of.”

Catra blinked softly, her eyes and ears drooping towards the floor. “I—I guess so. That makes a ton of sense. I didn’t really think about that part.”

“You… that’s fine. You’ll get there.” Glimmer imbued her next sentence with playful sarcasm: “Besides, you’re _way_ easier to deal with than like a month ago, so I believe in you.”

The jab drew out a soft chuckle from everyone.

Except Bow, who, between surrounding himself with soft cushions and closing his eyes to better listen to the conversation being held, had at some point dozed off in a pleasant haze of alcohol and good company.

* * *

For all the drab, lifeless stone and glass one found themselves surrounded by in Brightmoon, the outstretched fingers of its spires offered midnight peace and an incomparable view. The Whispering Woods, beyond the grounds on one side and the lake on the other, sprawled out seemingly endlessly; only the dim pinpricks of warm light from still-burning campfires and villages tenuously grasping dissipating shreds of wakefulness dotted the otherwise uniform sea of moonlit treeline. Silence reigned, sharpening the senses and making one keenly aware of the cool air playing a lazy back-and-forth around the tower.

Perfuma had quickly made herself comfortable here. The rest of the castle walled her in, pressing against her mind in distracting ways. Nighttime meditation atop the surrounding landscape had become a ritual—a way to clear the stony dust out of her lungs and let her mind rest from too many days spent closed off in stuffy meeting rooms and libraries. In a few weeks, she could spend most of her time in Plumeria again. Now, though, Etheria still needed a concert of princesses working as one. In the meantime, she would bask in solitude and moonlight as often as her soul asked for it.

A heavy, tall figure—unexpectedly soft-footed, Perfuma had noted early on—broke the night’s spell; still, its presence still proved a welcome one.

“Hey, Perfuma. You, uh, got a minute?”

“Scorpia! Come sit with me.”

The flower princess had laid out her usual blanket, one large enough for two—if allowances were made for legs to intertwine.

Scorpia slowly sat, bringing forward a tray of steeping tea and biscuits to rest on the stone in front of them. They spoke quietly, barely breaking a whisper.

“I brought some tea. I know it can get cold out here this time of night.”

“Thanks. I like it, actually. It’s so nice to get some fresh air.” Perfuma poured out two cups of tea, bringing one to her lips and taking a careful sip. Mint.

Scorpia brought an arm around Perfuma’s waist, gently bringing their heads together.

“Do you think Catra’s going to be okay?”

“Of course she is. I believe in her. The road has just been…very tough for her. And it might be for a while.”

“I get that. I really wish it were easier. Do you think she’ll bite on the therapy idea?”

“Hopefully. She’ll make an amazing companion once she isn’t hurting so much. And learns how to communicate.”

“I know. I see it too. It’s hard to… deal with her sometimes. But something about her just makes you want to keep trying, doesn’t it?”

Perfuma took another warm, minty sip, gazing up at the stars.

“We should spend time together here more often. Somehow, Scorpia, you’re the one person I don’t mind interrupting my alone time.”

“It’s… it’s not that I _want_ to interrupt, I—I can try not to if—”

Her words were taken away by a soft hand, pulling her head in for the gentlest of kisses.

* * *

Catra stirred, uneasy. Exhaustion had quickly caught up to them after Glimmer’s impromptu speech, and they had turned in early—yet, she wasn’t getting any rest to show for it. Bouts of loud, anxious dreams switched off with fleeting awareness of Adora tossing and turning, equally restless.

She rolled to the side, expecting Adora’s body to press up against her; finding it absent, she begrudgingly opened her eyes to assess.

Glimmer and Bow were peacefully sleeping, draped over each other among a nest of pillows and blankets. A long, hunched-over shadow of Adora broke up the dim moonlight streaming in through the window. _Figures, she’s brooding._

At the soft rustling of sheets left behind by Catra standing up, Adora turned her head, casting a weary smile at the magicat. _She’s always been so quiet when she wants to._

Catra pushed herself onto the thick ledge opposite Adora, leaning her back against the windowsill and mirroring her girlfriend’s stance.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” She whispered.

“Nope.”

“What’s on your mind? You barely talked earlier.”

A _lot_ was on Adora’s mind. She chose an item she deemed acceptable to share, offering it up uneasily.

“I… wish people were nicer to you. That they gave you more of a chance. That they saw you like I do.”

Catra reached out a hand, giving Adora’s knee a soft press.

“I don’t think you realize just _how_ much of a chance everyone’s given me so far. Not everyone’s as ready to give as you are, Adora. Actually—I kinda worry about it sometimes, still.”

Adora buried her head in her hands, letting a deep breath escape between her fingers.

“Is… is it that bad? I’m almost angry at Perfuma. For—setting perfectly healthy boundaries. For trying to get help for you.”

“Don’t be, please.”

Adora kept speaking, shakier this time.

“That’s the problem, Catra. All—all I can ever think to do is just _give_. I was ready to _die_ out there, and I wasn’t even sad about it! And now I’m angry at everyone for not wanting to go out there and do the same for you, even though they barely even _know_ you.”

Catra scooted forward, wrapping her arms around Adora and letting her fall against her chest.

“I love you so, _so_ much. But it’s not—never been—because of the things you give me. It’s because of who you are. I think you have trouble accepting that people—well, good people—think the same thing.”

Adora linked her wrists behind her partner’s shoulders, pulling herself tighter, letting Catra’s heartbeat mix with the sound of her voice from above.

“We both have trouble not hating ourselves, don’t we.”

Adora gave a soft nod.

“What if we both took Perfuma up on her offer? Even Glimmer sees someone. Maybe all of us need some help. Separately. And together.”

Adora blinked back a tear, struggling to keep her breath even.

“Catra, I’m… I’m scared. Scared I can’t do it. Scared all I am is… just a tool. And when I stop being useful, there won’t be any point to me anymore.”

Catra brought her chin down to the top of Adora’s head, a tear making its way up and out in response.

“Babe… that’s _her_ talking. You know that’s not true. You know that’s never been true, never will be, and I’ll fight anyone who makes you feel that way.”

A dry, sarcastic chuckle. “Good luck fighting a dead hologram, an entire race of colonizers and almost everyone I grew up with in the Horde.”

Catra squeezed her tighter. “Avoiding my point, Adora. I think we could both use someone who knows how to help us figure this out.”

Adora turned her head into Catra’s chest, wiping her tears on the thin, raggedy shirt she had started wearing to bed.

“Maybe you’re right. I have no idea what to do with myself when I feel like this.”

“Here’s an idea: come back to bed with me and let _me_ hold _you_ for once.”

A quiet whisper of approval followed as they tiptoed back to their bed, Catra opening her arms and letting Adora curl back up against her chest between them.

“We’re going to be okay. I promise. I love you, Adora. With every little tiny bit of me.”

From the depths of Catra’s chest: “I love you too, Catra.”

Nestled in each other arm’s, they slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed the emotions and fluff <3


End file.
